


Wait for Now

by SordidFood



Category: Sorted (Website) RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Coming Out, M/M, Pining, Teen level angst, Underage Drinking, generally poor decisions, mentions of drinking and driving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SordidFood/pseuds/SordidFood
Summary: 5 times Mike was late and 1 time he wasn't





	Wait for Now

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you to the Sorted Discord for ... all the things. 
> 
> I'm playing kind of fast and loose with timelines and years here. Also, "Tom" here is intended to be an OC for narritive purposes only and not the _actual_ Tom.
> 
> Title from "I Will Wait" by Mumford and Sons

 

_When Mike Huttlestone was born, he was two weeks overdue. This set up a precedent for the remainder of his life._

  **I.**

“Huttlestone… Huttlestone…” The teacher scans the classroom, searching for a hand or some sort of recognition amongst the students, but there isn’t any. He sighs as he makes a mark in the ledger. “Absent again… Right. Everyone, please turn to lesson 6 in your books...”

There is a thunderous sound of textbooks being dropped on desks as the class simultaneously opens their books to start the lesson. Jamie barely registers any of this, only half paying attention as the teacher begins to drone on about Conan-Doyle. He’s far more concerned with scratching song lyrics into the margins on his notebook and stealing shy glances at the pretty brunette seated near the window. His focus is only broken by the door opening and a scrawny blonde kid slipping inside the classroom.

“Mr. Huttlestone,” the teacher greets with tired resignation, his hand already extended ready to take the doctor’s note before Huttlestone even offers it. Jamie had heard about Michael Huttlestone briefly when the school year began.

_“Did you hear that Mike got hit by a car?”_

_“Who?”_

_“Mike Huttlestone.”_

_“Is he dead?”_

_“No, he’s alright, but a bit banged up, I guess.”_

Aside from that, Jamie hadn’t paid much mind to Michael Huttlestone. He was barely a presence in the class, just a name on the roll who never seemed to be there. Now, though, there’s finally a face to place with a name. Mike is skinny with short, spiky hair and a long, sour looking face. He passes by Jamie’s desk and he makes his way down the aisle, taking a seat a couple rows behind him.

“Now as I was saying…” The teacher begins to speak and once again Jamie’s attention is drawn away.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, we have basketball today,” The P.E. teacher calls out as the class files into the gymnasium. Jamie stays at the back of the group, knowing that when teams are chosen, he’ll be one of the last picked. Out of his peripheral vision, he spots Mike Huttlestone approaching the P.E. teacher, doctor’s note in hand.

“Hullo there, Sick Note,” the teacher says sarcastically, taking the note from Mike and giving it a cursory read. “Alright, you know the drill. Off to the side.” He gestures toward the stands at the side of the room and Mike heads over.

The games pick up and Jamie half-heartedly participates in a game. It’s not like anyone in class passes the ball to him anyway. He’s never considered himself an athlete by any means and, truth be told, neither have his classmates. Jamie knows where his strengths lie - being boisterous, being the life of a party, being a class clown. He stands at the outskirts of the game, watching the ball be passed back and forth and occasionally shouting words of encouragement to his friends.

His eyes drift to the stands where Mike Huttlestone sits, head in his hands. Earlier, Mike had looked tired and worn. Now, he looks deflated and miserable. Jamie side-steps his way around the game until he reaches the stands, settling down a few feet from Mike.

“Hey,” he says. Mike doesn’t respond and Jamie considers maybe Mike didn’t hear him. “Hey… Uh, Mike, right?” Mike raises his head to look at Jamie, his eyes are narrowed and there are deep bags beneath them.

“What?” Mike asks bitterly.

“Uh… Are you alright?” Mike shakes his head and lets it drop back into his hands.

“Headache,” He mutters. Jamie frowns.

“Do you need anything?” Jamie doesn’t know why he asks it; it’s not like he has any medication to offer. He just hates seeing people struggling.

Mike shakes his head again. “Nah, I’ll be alright. I had an appointment with the osteopath today. This always happens afterward.” Mike lifts his head and looks at Jamie, offering something that’s supposed to be a smile, but comes off more as a grimace.

“You got, uh… hit by a car, didn’t you?” Jamie asks. His mum always tells him to “mind his Ps and Qs” and choose his words carefully, but Mike doesn’t seem upset offended by the question.

“Yeah, I tried to stop it with my head.” Mike says, giving Jamie an actual smile. The shift from his earlier look is striking. He seems to light up, his dour expression melting away in the brightness of a wide, toothy grin. “It’s why I have to go to the osteopath. They are trying to stretch me out. My spine is compacted.” Jamie can’t lie- he’s a bit impressed. He’s never met a person who was hit by a car before.

“That’s pretty cool, man,” he says. “I’m Jamie, by the way.”

“I know,” Mike says with a chuckle. There’s a sharp whistle that makes both of them jump.

“Spafford, back on the court!” The P.E. teacher calls out.

“Uh, I can’t, sir,” Jamie says. “I have a stomach ache.” The P.E. teacher rolls his eyes but mutters a low “fine” as he turns and walks back across the court. Mike gives Jamie an odd look, eyebrow raised.

“You don’t really,” he says.

“ ‘Course not.” Jamie shrugs. “But it’s not like anyone will notice. No one wants me on their team anyway… Plus, you looked like you could use company.” Mike watches Jamie for a moment curiously, but shrugs.

“If you like,” he says.

They spend the rest of the period, watching the many basketball games occurring around them and chatting idly about bands they like.

 

**II.**

Jamie glances at the car’s clock for the tenth time. He thought he’d planned it well, telling Mike to be ready by 7 and then showing up at 7:30, but apparently that still isn’t late enough for Mike Huttlestone.

Jamie sighs and switches off the car. He’s climbing out of the seat just as Mike comes tripping out the front door, calling a goodbye to his mum.

“Did you fall in?” Jamie asks. Mike hops down the walkway, pulling a shoe on one on foot as he tries to wrangle on his blazer. His hair is still wet and matted to his forehead, but when he looks up and smiles at Jamie, the mess that is Mike fades away.

“Thanks for waiting, mate,” he says as he opens the passenger side door. He crams himself into the seat, the Mini’s size doing his overly-long limbs no favors.

“No worries, man,” Jamie says, turning on the car and backing out into the lane. Jamie focuses on driving and Mike digs through his bag, searching for something.

“There’s something you need to hear,” he mumbles, pulling out a loose CD from a random pocket. For someone who loves music as much as Mike does, it shocks Jamie how little he takes care of his music collection. He ejects the current disc in the player, handing it to Jamie to place in the sleeve attached to the visor. Mike clicks through the first few songs until he finds the one he wants.

“You have got to hear this,” Mike says. A melodic guitar riff feeds into quick, staccato drumming and a singer with a vocal filter. Mike turns up the volume, belting out the lyrics.

“What is this?” Jamie shouts over the music.

“The Killers,” Mike replies, drumming with his hands against the dash. “Mr Brightside.” The chorus comes on and Mike sings at the top of his lungs, nudging Jamie to sing along as well, even if he doesn’t know the words. Jamie does his best, it’s not a difficult song lyrically and Mike’s enthusiasm and joy make it easy to get caught up in the music.

They speed down the road. Jamie reaches to shift into 3rd gear, his hand brushing Mike’s thigh as he does. Mike stops singing, catching Jamie’s eye and giving him a odd look.

“Sorry,” Jamie mumbles. “Small car.” Mike snorts and then playfully leans against Jamie’s shoulder, placing his own hand deliberately on Jamie’s knee.

“Oh Jay, don’t be so coy. I’m irresistible, I know,” he teases. Jamie chuckles and pushes Mike off and the moment is broken. They continue toward school, Mike whooping joyously as _“All These These Things That I Have Done”_ plays, but Jamie is too distracted by the phantom burn of Mike’s head on his shoulder and the touch of his hand on his leg.

 

**III.**

Jamie and Mike stare up at the night sky above them, laying across the bonnet of Jamie’s Mini. Jamie takes a swig off the bottle of whiskey before passing it to Mike. They were already halfway drunk when they came out to the field, neither one of them should have been driving at all, but today was a day for celebration- the end of the school year, the end of 6th form, acceptance into university. They’d been out with mates earlier, shutting down the pub.  After that, Jay had pulled out a bottle he’d nicked from his dad’s liquor cabinet and asked Mike if he wanted to split it.

The field is just a tract of land where a bowling alley once stood. It was their favorite spot; just an open space where they could sit and drink without being noticed.

Mike takes a long swig off the whiskey and Jamie find himself watching the way his lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the way a stray drop of alcohol trails from the corner of his mouth when he pulls it away.

“ Hereya go,” Mike slurs, handing the half-empty bottle back. Jamie shakes himself from his daze and takes it, hesitating on taking another drink. Today has been a great day, in spite of his lower-than-expected scores, he’d still been accepted to the marketing program. He should be jumping for joy, and earlier he was, but now the day is feeling rather bittersweet.

“Sooo,” Jamie begins.

“So, Bournemouth.” Mike interjects. “That’s pretty exciting, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is,” Jamie says, trying to drum up some enthusiasm in his drunken state. “Should be really cool. I’m excited about the program and-”

“Yeah, you’re going to have a blast.” Mike takes the bottle back and takes another drink. “Right by the sea, bet you’re going to be at the beach every weekend.” Jamie nods; he had thought about that. It wasn’t the main reason he’d applied to Bournemouth, but it had been a nice perk.

“You’ll need to come down and visit some,” he says. Mike frowns.

“I’ll probably be busy working or something,” Mike mutters. Jamie frowns. They hadn’t really talked about Mike’s decision not to go to Uni. His A-level scores had been enough to get him into a music or drama program, he could’ve applied. He just… hadn’t.

“Why… why didn’t you apply?” Jamie asks tentatively, taking the bottle from Mike and finally addressing the elephant in the room. Mike shakes his head and shrugs.

“Don’t know,” he says, sitting up and pulling his knees up. “ ‘m not smart enough for that.” Jamie jerks upright, staring at Mike in disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“ ‘m not smart enough for that,” Mike repeats. “I mean… I thought maybe being an osteopath would be cool but I was dreaders in biology. It was terrible.”

“What about Music or-”

“I can do that without Uni,” Mike glances at Jamie. He doesn’t look angry or insulted, just kind of … reconciled, and for some reason that breaks Jamie’s heart. Mike is so clever it terrifies Jamie. He spent all their school years in awe of Mike’s ability to throw himself into a project full force and just excel at it. He has passion in spades.

It’s just... finding something that sparks that passion is the difficult part.

“I think you’re smart enough for Uni,” Jamie says firmly. Mike gives a sad smile and mutters a quiet “thanks, Jay.” He extends his hand, offering the bottle back to Jamie.

“Your parents mad you’re not going?” Jamie asks before taking another swig.

“Nah.” Mike shakes his head. “They’ll be more upset that I’m out past curfew.”

“I should get you home,” Jamie sighs. Mike lets out a loud laugh.

“We are in no shape to drive,” He says, scrubbing both hands down his face and inhaling sharply. “Besides, We’re close enough that I can walk home. You can sleep at mine tonight.” Jamie smiles. Staying over at Mike’s wasn’t uncommon, but he liked that Mike was doing it because he cared about his well-being. They are quiet for a long time, Mike staring up at the starry night sky.

“It’s going to be weird not having anyone around.”

“There will still be people around,” Jamie counters, frowning. He knows quite a few people who’s scores weren’t good enough for Uni or just aren’t bothering going, including Barry Taylor. Mike glances at him; there’s a look in his eye that’s hard to place.

“Well then it’s going to be weird not having _you_ around,” he admits. “I’m going to miss you, Jamie.” Jamie swallows hard, eyes locked with Mike’s. It hits him how intensely _he’s_ going to miss Mike, as well. Mike has been, if not a constant presence in his life, a dominant one at least. Mike sits up and turns to face Jamie. He looks exhausted and drunk, his blue eyes more tired than usual, but there’s a spark in them that makes Jamie both a little excited and anxious.

Mike shifts forward and drops his forehead onto Jamie’s shoulder. He sighs deeply, his own shoulders sinking in relaxation, he head a comforting weight against Jamie. A long moment passes as they sit there somewhat awkwardly, barely touching save for one spot. Jamie eventually shifts his weight off of his hands and moves his arms around Mike’s shoulders. Mike immediately responds by wrapping his own hands around Jamie’s middle and hugging him tightly.

It’s difficult to say how long they sit there. At one point, Jamie believes maybe he or Mike drifted off to sleep.

They don’t part until Mike slips from Jamie’s hold and off the bonnet onto his feet, muttering that they should head to his place.

They stumble toward Mike’s house, occasionally bumping into each other’s shoulders or hands. If Jamie perhaps exaggerates his stumbling for more contact, he’ll never admit it.

 

**IV.**

Jamie glances at the clock on the stove. It’s ten past six and Mike was supposed to be here well over 20 minutes ago.

“We should start,” Barry says. “We can’t keep waiting for Mike-”

“He’ll be here,” Jamie says firmly. Mike might be constantly late, but he always shows up; it’s one of his best characteristics, as well as his worst. Barry gives him a long suffering look. “Oh come off it, Baz! You say you’ll be somewhere and then never arrive at all. _Mike will be here_.” As if Jamie’s words contained some sort of magic summons, there’s a heavy knocking on the door that is unmistakably Mike’s. Jamie smile as he rises to his feet from the couch. “See?”

Mike leans against the frame as Jamie opens the door, looking like he just woke up.

“Sorry I’m late, mate. I just woke up.” Jamie shrugs and pulls Mike in for a gruff one arm hug. It’s been a several weeks since they’ve last seen each other. Jamie’s course has kept him occupied, as has this new venture that Barry and Ben are exploring. Jamie was roped in early on to help with the marketing and branding of the project (which has tentatively been dubbed “Sorted”). When someone asked about possibly having music, Jamie immediately volunteered Mike.

Mike has his guitar case over one shoulder and his laptop bag slung over the other.

“So what is it you’re doing exactly?” He asks as Jamie leads him through the living room of the house.

“It’s like a video to promote the cookbook that Ben and Baz are making,” Jamie explains. He gestures to where Tom and a few of the other lads are sitting. “We’re doing some still shots today but we wanted to kind of get a start on some of the video bits as well.” Mike nods in understanding as he sets down his gear. Several heads look up at him questioningly. Jamie is pretty sure he knows most of them, but some will no doubt be new faces.

“Everyone, if you don’t know Mike, this is Mike.” Mike gives an awkward wave. Jamie rattles off the rest of the group, pointing to each person as they go.

“Nice to meet you,” Mike says, shaking hands with Jamie’s flatmate, Tom.

“Yeah, you too,” Tom says. “How do you know Jay?” Jamie start to respond when Mike pipes up.

“He’s my life partner.” Mike throws an arm around Jamie’s shoulders and gives him a cheeky squeeze. “We plan on making it _official_ in the spring… Once this one pops the question, of course.” Jamie chuckles but follows through with the bit, laying his head on Mike’s chest. Tom gives Jamie a wry look but shakes his head and laughs it off. Mike untangles himself from Jamie, not before giving him a playful slap on the arse, and picks up his guitar case.

Jamie stands watching Tom and Mike discuss the current progress of the video, but lost in his own thoughts. He and Mike always joke like that- they call each other “babe” and other pet names. They are probably more physically affectionate than two male, platonic friends ought to be. They send good morning and good evening texts to each other while Jamie is at Uni. It’s all banter, all a laugh to get the rest of their mates stirred up.

Jamie moves back to the kitchen where Barry and Ben are prepping for the next recipe. Barry glances up at him as he enters, throwing a ball of yellow fabric in his direction.

“Put it on,” he says. It’s a tshirt with his name across the front. A few of the others have them as well. Jamie stares at the shirt doubtfully, but sheds his button down and throws it on anyway.

 

* * *

 

After shooting the video, the evening devolves into drinking games and chatter. Jamie rises from the couch to grab another drink from the kitchen. Tom is already in there, meticulously mixing a cocktail. Jamie gives him a nod in acknowledgement.

“So you and that Mike guy…?” Tom pipes up before Jamie can push open the door open to leave. “I didn’t even realize you were into blokes.” Jamie is caught off guard by the question.

“What?”

“Mike… said he was your partner?” Tom’s expression grows doubtful, as if he’s just beginning realize he might’ve misinterpreted things. “I’m sorry… was that not…?” Jamie laughs lightly.

“Oh, that was just Mike having a laugh,” Jamie says. “We’re mates. He’s straight, anyway.”

“But you’re not?” Tom asks. Jamie doesn’t even realize what he’s said until that moment.

“I’m…” He wants to say _I’m straight_ like he’s said so many times before _,_ but the words feel heavy and false in his mouth. “I’m not. I… like like both. Blokes and girls.” Jamie braces himself for a reaction.

“That’s cool, man,” Tom just nods thoughtfully and continues making his drink. “There’s a guy in my biology seminar who’s bi as well. Want me to get you his number?” Jamie smiles, charmed at the clunky offer, but shakes his head.

“Thanks, anyway,” He says as he grabs his beer and leaves. He heads back out to the room with the others. Mike is singing something off key as he tries to toss a ball into a half-full cup of beer, whooping loudly as it drops down with a splash.

“Jay, my love!” Mike calls out across the room as he spots Jamie. “You and me next, ok?” Mike blows a kiss at him and then flashes that sun-bright smile. Jamie feels his heart swell, and he swallows hard.

It’s all a game, right? Only banter, nothing serious. Jamie keeps saying that to himself, despite the fact that his heart doesn’t seem to want to listen.

 

**V.**

Mike is late. _Again._ Mike is always late. Jamie shouldn’t be surprised or even disappointed after almost 15 years of knowing the guy, however he did think tonight might be different.

It’s not every day you pass a milestone as big as a million subscribers.

The whole team had arranged an impromptu celebration at a trendy gastropub that Barry knew about. They’d even contacted a few old schoolmates who’d been around in the early days of Sorted to come around and celebrate with everyone. It was kind of an important night but, Mike being Mike, he was late.

Jamie had suggested Mike meet at him at his place and they could share the cab ride to the pub. Mike had been… improving on his time management skills lately and Jamie hadn’t thought to mention being early to Mike.

He supposes now maybe he should’ve, because Mike wasn’t just Mike-late, he was _really_ late. Over and hour almost. Jamie pulls out his cell phone and shoots what has to be the tenth message to Mike.

_Where the fuck are you??_

He scrubs a hand down his face and throws his phone against the couch cushion. He should just go, let Mike find his own way. He can’t keep waiting for him.

But isn’t that just what Jamie does? Wait for Mike. Be there for Mike. Hope Mike will one day see that Jamie is hopelessly in love with him.

“Pathetic,” Jamie mutters to himself. It’s not that he doesn’t like being friends with Mike. Mike’s his best mate and he treasures their friendship, which is _exactly_ why he won’t make a move.

It’s an odd paradox- damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.

Jamie’s phone chimes with a text and he’s filled with a combination of annoyance and relief as he sees Mike’s name flash across the screen.

_Mike: I’m at the door._

Jamie rings the buzzer to let Mike into the building and a few seconds later he hears a heavy knock on his front door.

“Where the Hell have you-” Mike pushes into Jamie’s flat, his guitar case slung over his shoulder and an wild look in his eye.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, settling down on Jamie’s couch and unzipping the case. “I got caught up, uh… writing?”

“Writing?” Jamie asks, still annoyed.

“Yeah, I’ve had this like… melody in my head for like months,” Mike says, slinging the strap over his neck. “And, like, yesterday the words _finally_ came to me.” Mike giggles lightly to himself, that grin Jamie adores lighting up his whole face. Mike begins to strum lightly, but Jamie clears his throat.

“Mike,” he says. “Mike we _really_ need to go.”

“Just…” Mike looks up at him, eyes large and imploring. “Just let me play this, alright?” Jamie sighs and slumps down on the other side of the couch as Mike begins to strum.

The melody is simple, just four or five chords on repeat, but it’s light and lovely; romantic, even. Mike starts singing after a measure, eyes closed, as if trying to conjure the words from memory.

The words are what catch Jamie’s attention. He’s heard Mike’s music for years, the lyrics always full of heavy symbolism and allegory, but this seems removed from that. They are straight forward, speaking to wanting someone more than they can relate and imaging have them in his life forever.

Jamie feels suddenly nauseous. Mike’s dated around for years, Jamie’s aware, but none of the girls have ever been serious. This one certainly is different. To make Mike bustle into Jamie’s flat and pull out his guitar and play a song that is so heartfelt and meaningful… she must be special.

Mike finishes up and looks tp Jamie expectantly, hopefully.

“Well… what do you think?” Jamie wants to stomp out of the room, find a bottle of bourbon and drink the whole thing in one go. He wants to get in his car and press his foot to the gas and drive as far and as fast as he possibly can. He wants to be angry at Mike.

But he can’t be, because it’s Mike.

“It’s, uh, good,” Jamie says, clearing his throat. “Really good.” He’s going for encouraging, but he can’t muster any enthusiasm in his words. The bitter feeling sinking in his gut is too much.

Mike’s face drops. “You hate it.” he says flatly.

“No, no, it’s great. I really like it.” Jamie replies. Mike’s brows draw together, clearly not believing him. “Seriously, mate, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“She?” Mike asks.

“The girl you wrote it for.” Jamie hadn’t meant for that to come out as curt and sullen as it had, but he also doesn’t care. Mike shakes his head slowly.

“ S’not for a girl.” He takes the guitar off and leans it against the side of the couch. If Jamie felt shitty before, it’s nothing compared to Mike all but admitting he likes guys as well as girls. All these years and it turns out what Mike didn’t like about Jamie was just… Jamie.

“Well, I hope he likes it,” Jamie bites out, unable to look Mike in the eye.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mike blurts out. “It’s for you!” It takes a second for the words to register, for Mike’s meaning to sink in. Jamie raises his head, eyes wide.

“What?” Jamie mumbles. He’s confused. He wants to ask _“What do you mean it’s me?”_ but all at once Mike is kissing him, really, truly kissing, and Jamie is kissing him back.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was 13 years old,” Mike admits between kisses, his temple pressed to Jamie’s. Jamie could cry, but right now he just wants to kiss Mike more and communicate over a decade’s worth of unrequited affection and love as best he can.

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” he manages to get out, rewarded immediately by the feeling of Mike smiling against his lips.

 

**+1**

Of all days, _of all days,_ for Jamie to over sleep, it had to be _this day._  

He races down the roadway, driving at probably double the speed limit and praying that no traffic police spot him. If he does get pulled over, he doubts his reasoning will work.

_“Sorry I was going a little fast, officer. It’s my wedding day and I’m over an hour late and my husband-to-be will never let me live it down if I accidentally stand him up at the altar. I’m sure you understand, of course.”_  As if they haven’t heard an excuse like that before.

Jamie groans as he hits a patch of traffic. He pulls out his phone and shoots a text to Barry.

_I overslept. On my way._ _  
_ _Be there in 10. Tell Mike I’m sorry._

He’s already beginning to sweat through his tux and he knows his hair will be dreadful by the time his arrives at the venue. He just hopes that Barry will be able to turn up the charm and explain to the guests the situation. His phone chimes with a text reply from Barry.

_Too Late. Mike is already in tears. Wants to call the whole thing off_. Jamie’s stomach drops for a second until another text follows.

_I’m just taking the mick. It’s fine. I’ll let everyone know_. Jamie groans with a combination of relief and annoyance, both at Baz for the awful joke but also at Mike who, for once in his life, was actually on time.

_Of all days!_

Jamie swerves into the car park and the closest spot he can find, shouting out hurried greetings to a few other late arrivals.

“I’m here! I’m here!” he calls out as he rushes through the back entrance toward the dressing area. The room is empty, save for a few members of the wedding party milling about in the hallway “uh… Hello?”

“Did you fall in?” Jamie turns to see Mike leaning against the doorway, his light grey suit and waistcoat looking absolutely stunning on him and making the blue of his eyes pop. Jamie grins and steps toward him.

“Thanks for waiting,” he mumbles, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Oh, you’re not out of the forest yet,” Mike warns. “My mum will have some choice words for you about ‘time management.’”

“Oh, I can handle Judy,” Jamie chuckles. He quirks an eyebrow at Mike. “Should I be seeing you before the ceremony?”

“Why not?” Mike shrugs.

“Well, tradition and all that.” Mike frowns and glances down at himself.

“I’m not in a wedding gown, am I?” He asks. “Don’t think it would suit me much anyway. _I just don’t have the curves for it.”_

“Alright, smart arse,” Jamie mutter, placing a hand at the small of Mike’s back and pulling him into an even deeper kiss. Down the hall, Barry’s voice echoes, calling Mike and Jamie’s names. Jamie pulls back and sighs.  

“I guess we should make our appearance, then,” he says. Mike hums thoughtfully.

“Let ‘em wait a bit longer,” he replies, going in for another kiss.

 


End file.
